


As One Starves a Fire of Air

by sherwholokid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dragon Age - Freeform, Takes place in DA universe but not about any events specifically portrayed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherwholokid/pseuds/sherwholokid
Summary: Andrea has been an apostate all her life. Born into a noble family, she must take extra care to hide the magic she possesses. What will happen when the person she is closest to, her husband, the Bann, finds out that she is a mage?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Aaron Mahnke’s Lore episode about the Eddy family, episode 84: A Family Affair. If you like listening to podcasts, Lore is all about scary non-fiction stories and I would definitely recommend it!

The night that Andrea goes into labor is filled with sweaty skin and hot throbbing pain. Yet these discomforts all seem insignificant when she compares them to the worry that has been hanging over her head ever since she had found out she was pregnant. She worries about more than her health, or even that of her child’s. She worries they will be a mage. 

When she was thirteen she had started having funny dreams. Strange people would offer her things, bargain with her. They would show her beautiful sights, and wonderful promises. 

“ _ I  _ can make you rich.” A king told her, “I can make you powerful.”

A woman she had never seen before claimed, “You will be  _ so _ beautiful. So  _ adored. _ The price is minuscule compared to the reward.”

“My daughter. I only wish to hold you once more,” said a woman who had the same face as the portrait that Andrea’s father kept in his study. 

She was visited by these figures every night. And every night she avoided them, terrified of what would happen if she started a conversation. Because something about them just never felt… right. 

And so the dreams continued.  Andrea didn’t mention them to anyone, figuring they were completely normal. Something everyone dealt with. Until her cat broke its leg.  

She didn’t know what happened. One moment the cat was walking along the top of her dresser, and the next it was on the floor and wailing in pain. Andrea had been so distraught, the cat’s tearful cries echoing in her head. Without thinking, she placed her hands upon the cat and they started to glow. After a few moments the cat got up, gave her a couple thankful licks, its tongue rough against the hand that moments ago had power flowing through it. Then it stalked away.  

Andrea felt dizzy as she stared at her hands in shock. She… had magic. She was a mage. Andrea flinched as she pictured the mages in the Ferelden circle who had all almost gotten possessed; turned into abominations. The Hero of Ferelden had saved them before the Templars had come to kill them all, but people trusted mages even less than they had before now. Andrea didn’t know where the power could have come from, unless her mother had been a mage and had hidden it from her father. It was a possibility. The woman had died in childbirth so Andrea had never known her.  

As the weeks passed she discovered that she could do other things too. She could summon fire, or freeze things, and make others float. The things she could do filled her with wonder and horror. She never felt that her magic was  _ evil _ but she had never heard of a  _ good _ mage either. Every time the magic slipped through she would pray to the Maker, beg him, to just take it away. 

One night she went to her father to confess that she was cursed; that she had  _ magic.  _ She had heard people at the Chantry calling it a sin before. Walking into his study, she found him pouring over one of his many papers that were his responsibility as Bann. She tried exchanging pleasantries, anything to keep the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her at bay. Her father sat attentively, responding in kind, before he finally asked what was wrong, sensing that there was a deeper purpose to her visit. Andrea told him everything in a rush, trying to get the entire explanation out  but not giving him opportunity to respond, fearing what he might say. But soon she was sobbing, and she couldn’t continue in want for air that her tears denied her. 

Her father was extremely patient, and listened to everything his daughter had to say. “So, these…  _ demons, _ ” he said once she finished. “They speak to you?”

“Yes.” Andrea sniffed, “I don’t listen to them though. They scare me.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “And have there been any ‘accidents’ since this started?”

She shook her head. “No. No, it hasn’t happened by surprise since the cat.”

Her father took her hands and pulled her closer. “Then you must listen to me. The world is a dangerous place for people like you,” he murmured. “You must practice controlling it even more, you must never give into the tempting words of demons that you hear in your dreams, and most important of all, you must never tell anyone.”

Andrea nodded solemnly, the tears slowing their pace down her face, but not quite stopping. 

Her father brought her hands to his mouth and gave them a quick kiss before pulling her into a hug. “May the Maker give you strength.” He murmured into her hair.

After that Andrea started studying the chantry and templars along with the circles they ran. She learned to suppress her magic, suppress her curiosity of discovering what she could do with this curse she was born with. When she did slip up, she found that emotion largely powered it, and instead of using anger or desperation to tamp it down, she let herself go empty. She starved her magic as one starves a fire of air.

If she was going to be an apostate, she would do her best to remain so with her magic in control  and undetected, resulting in no suspicion from Templars and other Mages alike. 

So when her baby is finally born seven years later, the moment is filled with relief and joy, but a ringing worry dances around the edge of her mind. If her child had magic, would they be able to control it as she did, or would they be discovered? The world was full of turmoil for people like her and she worried what might happen to her child if they were discovered. She had prayed to the Maker as the midwife urged her to push, that He might see fit to spare her child from this curse even if He had passed over the pleas to remove the curse from herself. 

Andrea found that she was actually terrified when the midwife placed her child in her arms. 

When her husband enters the room she fights the urge to hide the baby, as if there might be a way to tell her child is a mage just by looking at them. 

Her husband was a devout Andrastian, and was raised with rather old fashioned views on magic. Her father had discouraged their courtship at first, worried for her safety both mentally and physically, despite her suitor being the only one to show interest in the poor Bann’s daughter. They lived right on the border between Ferelden and Orlais. To the Fereldens, they were practically Orleasian, and to the Orleasians, they were just another set of dog-lords; thus, their region was a poor one. Her husband was different, being half Orleasian half Ferelden himself, and despite not being a noble, was very well to do. His family owned many horses which people bought and bartered for in their journeys between the two countries.  He was also charming and handsome, and soon Andrea found herself inescapably in love with him. Her devotion to the Maker was just as strong as his, and she found it captivating. Sometimes they would exchange verses from the chant of light just the same as lovers exchanged sweet poetry describing their passion. 

Soon they were married and he became the new Bann, the title being a part of her dowry. Bann Reddings. Despite that, Andrea kept her secret. 

So when he approaches her, and she extends the child out to him informing him that he now has a daughter, she can only offer him a weak smile when he says that she looks just like her mother too nervous that she might spill her secret at any moment. 

“Let’s name her Vival.” He says, his eyes alight with awe. They had discussed possible names before, and had several options, but the name Vival, the name of one of Andraste’s daughters, had appealed to him the most. 

“How about Vival?” He had murmured one night as he laid beside her in bed. 

“That’s sacrilegious!” Andrea protested as he rolled over to cup the child she carried inside her between them. 

“If the Maker denies me a seat at His side for believing I have a bride as fine as His, so be it,” he said, and placed a kiss on her round and swollen belly.

Secretly Andrea had begun to like it too. Whenever she thought of the child growing inside her, it filled her with the same rich, if not richer, love that she felt when she thought of her Maker. 

“Yes. Vival.” She murmurs, pulling herself back from the past, and reaching her hand up to run her fingers over the soft, warm skin of her daughter’s head. Her husband loved them. So much. It was ridiculous that she was worrying over such dark things when the utter devotion  he had for her and her child was shining in his eyes. Yet she couldn’t keep herself from doing so. 

Of course, she didn’t know for certain whether her child possessed the same magic that she did. One could never know until they cast it. And with no sign of magic, Andrea started to relax, despite her worries. Maybe her child would be safe; maybe she hadn’t inherited the curse. 

Years later, her precious Vival came rushing into the parlor where Andrea and her husband sat, discussing the days events. A few candles strewn around  and the last of the sunset peeking through the curtain lit the room. 

“Mama, papa! Look at my trick!” She exclaims. They both patiently turn to their daughter, expectant smiles on their faces, waiting to see what new ‘fascinating’ thing Vival has discovered when her little hand starts to glow with a lyrium-blue magic. The jovial smile drops off her father’s face, and Andrea’s heart breaks at the sight.  

Andrea almost expects her husband to start yelling, to unleash his temper on the two of them. Instead he calls for the servant, Anna, with no hint of the rage Andrea is expecting. 

“Yes, ser?” Anna asks when she walks in, only to freeze when she sees the little girl’s glowing hand. 

“Take Vival up to her room, please.” Bann Reddings says in a terrifyingly calm voice. The sun has set, and now the room is dim except for the light of two candles and magic. 

Vival turns to Anna, and the light emanating from her hand winks out as she reaches up to her to be picked up, a naïve smile on her face. Anna gingerly lifts the little girl to her hip, wary to even touch her. 

After the two leave the room, Andrea’s husband get up and shuts the door with a resounding click, the only sound to penetrate the silence for several moments. 

Bann Reddings’ knuckles grow white on the doorknob before he finally speaks. “Whose child is that,  _ whore _ ?” he spits out. 

Andrea’s fingers clutch at her skirts, her hands openly trembling in fear of her husband’s wrath. He had gotten angry with her before, as most couples do, but not like this. Never like this. “She’s- she’s your daughter,” she stutters, her throat becoming very dry. 

He spins on her then, stalking over to her and slamming his hands onto the arms of the chair she’s in. “No child of mine would be an  _ abomination _ !” he yells, inches from her face. 

Andrea cowers away in fear, “She’s mine.” She says quietly, “I’m a-“ she pauses, the words catching in her throat. 

“What?!” He demands, and when she doesn’t respond he grabs her wrists, yanking her to her feet, “What were you going to say?!” He bellows. 

“I’m a mage.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea escapes with Vival

Her husband stares as her, not responding, so Andrea repeats herself, louder this time. “I’m a mage.”  
It’s at that moment when Andrea’s identity hinges on acceptance or rejection, and it takes a turn to the darker one. His features contort into an ugly expression of pure disgust which makes tears spring to Andrea’s eyes.   
“I’m sending for the Templars.”  
“No!” Andrea launches herself at him, clutching his waistcoat in desperation, “No! No, please! I love you. We love you so much. Please! Please, you can’t do this to us!” She babbles as the Bann unsympathetically pries her fingers off of him and pushes her to the floor. Physically, it doesn’t hurt, but it feels like something is torn away from her as her husband turns away.  
“I won’t harbor apostates in my household.” He says, no hint of empathy in his voice, before leaving the room and locking the door behind him with a click.   
Andrea lurches to her feet and throws herself at the door, pounding on it with one hand and pulling on the door knob with the other as her mind whirls with terror.  
The Circles had recently rebelled, shortly before that, the Kirkwall circle had fallen and rumors had started about some form of meeting in the White Spire. There were rumors of a full scale war about to start because tensions between the templars and mages were so high. She had heard several stories in the past weeks of mages simply being killed on sight. She wouldn’t let that happen to her sweet Vival.   
She gives the door knob a hard yank, and to her surprise it gives away like clay in her hand, when she looks down she sees it glowing yellow with heat and the door around where it had been singed black. Somehow she feels none the effects of heat on her hand. Her magic had slipped through her composure, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Her identity had already been revealed and something much larger was at stake.   
She lets the doorknob fall from her hand and it makes a muted thump from where it falls on the carpet, twisted and still glowing with heat. Maybe it would start a fire later, she hoped it would. She hoped it would burn as hot as her husband’s betrayal felt in her chest.   
Andrea carefully pushes the smoking door open and listens for her husband, she hears him in the entry hall speaking with Anna.   
“-to the Chantry. They should have a Templar or two stationed there. Be quick or-“  
She steps around the corner, out of range of her husband’s voice, and heads up the stairs to her daughters room.   
Little Vival sits on the rug in the center of the room, playing with one of her dolls. When she sees her mother enter she gives her a wary look, “Am I in trouble?”  
“No, no darling. We just have to go.” Andrea says, rushing to Vival’s wardrobe and removing a traveling cloak.   
Vival obediently stands when her mother approaches her with the cloak and sets the doll down on the rug as her mother slips her arms into the sleeves.   
Andrea picks up her child, then rushes to her own bedroom. She grabs a purse of coins and several pieces of her more valuable jewelry. She spots the golden necklace with their heraldry embossed on it that her father had given her when she was young, and she almost leaves it behind, but at the last moment she takes it and slips it over Vival’s head, settling it under the neck of her clothing.   
“Don’t lose this.” She whispers and Vival gives her a wide-eyed nod, clearly excited to have come into possession of such a beautiful trinket.   
Andrea doesn’t know how much time she’ll have. Her husband could discover that she’s escaped the parlor any moment and could come looking. They had to leave, but she couldn’t risk the chance of passing her husband by taking the stairs. Which greatly slimmed her options.   
She realizes that below the window of her bedroom there’s thick bushes. Thick enough to break the fall of any person who leapt out, it’s on that windowsill that she sets her little girl.   
“We’re going to play a game, Vival darling.” She says, giving her a thin smile, “We’re going to jump into the bushes below, it will be great fun!”  
Her child’s eyes are filled with such trust and glee so of course she naïvely agrees.   
Andrea opens the window, “Now do you want to jump?” She says, “Or do you want me to-“  
Vival leaps into the air with a little squeal and a moment later the bushes rustle as she plops into them.   
As she waits for Vival to climb out of the shrubbery, she hears a cry of alarm from her husband downstairs. With no time to waste, Andrea follows her daughter down, though much less eagerly.   
“Again!” Vival gasps, as her mother wriggles out of the bushes, clapping her chubby hands.  
“Maybe later sweetling. For now we have to go to the inn. You like sleeping at the inns whenever we go on trips, don’t you?” Andrea asks, knowing she might easily be tracked there, but having no other choice of shelter.  
Vival nods vigorously and her mother picks her up before taking off into the forest alongside the road.   
The inn is barely a few miles away, but when she’s almost there, she sees a couple Templars on horses with Anna in the lead. Quickly ducking to the ground, she watches as they make their way to her home. She barely dares to breathe as they pass and luckily Vival makes no sound either, clearly sensing something amiss.   
After the Templars pass and are far down the road, Andrea stands up and creeps out from the forest, it only takes a short time before they arrive at the inn.  
Inside it’s warm, if a little barren as it is mostly a place meant for travelers, not those looking for leisure. The innkeeper is suprised, but gives them a respectful greeting when he recognizes who they are, despite their flushed appearance.   
“I need a room for the night.” Andrea says, setting Vival down but keeping hold of her hand as she pulls out her purse.   
“That would be 10 crowns.” The innkeeper responds.   
As Andrea pulls out the coins the also pulls out a golden sovereign. “...your silence too.” She says, depositing the lot into the innkeeper’s hand. “I will provide more given that my stay here is uneventful.” She pauses a moment, unsure if she should continue, “More than what anyone who make come looking for me can provide.”  
The man gives her a quick nod and guides her to the room towards the back.   
“Is father coming?” Vival asks as her mother removes her cloak and hangs it on a bedpost once the door is shut and locked.   
Andrea pauses, trying to come up with a comforting answer, but she can find none. “No.”  
“Is he busy?” Vival asks.   
“...yes. Your father is busy. We mustn’t bother him.”  
Andrea leaves the room only for a few moments to get a bit of food that her and Vival share before the child falls asleep snuggled up to her. She finds that she can’t sleep however. She doesn’t want to sleep. She’s not going to take the chance. 

When dawn breaks she knows she must move on. She slips Vival back into her traveling cloak, her cheeks still ruddy from sleep. Once she’s dressed she falls back to sleep, curling her face into her mother’s neck  
Andrea is paying the innkeeper for more food for the road and the coin she promised him when she feels a hand touch her back.   
Instantly Andrea seizes with fear, barely warding back the wave of magic that rushes up and she turns around only to find that it’s just a man holding a sack in his hand, not a Templar.   
“You’re them.” He says urgently, looking between Andrea and the child she holds.   
“I don’t know what you mean.” Andrea says in a small voice, trying to step past the man, but his hand lands on her arm, preventing her from going any further and he leans in close, tone low, to whisper in her ear.  
“I’m from the Mage Collective. You’re the Bann’s wife and child. I’m here to help, there are Templars looking for you.” He murmurs.   
Just then the door opens and three armored men with the Templar insignia emblazoned on their chest plates walk in.   
“We have to go.” The mage says, tugging in her arm.   
“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asks the men, deliberately drawing the newcomers’ attention away.   
It’s all she can do to keep herself from running as Andrea follows the mage, her heart pounding in her chest, as he leads them through a side door. She’s just about to ask where they’re going when he pushes her against the wall, and puts a finger to his lips.   
A Templar meanders past in an intersecting alley, and his gaze drifts right over them.   
“Oh thank the Maker.” Andrea murmurs against her daughters sweet-smelling hair, clutching her tight to her chest, “Thank the Maker.”  
Once again the mage tugs at at her arm and she follows him to a plain looking home. He knocks sharply and the door opens a crack.   
“The dawn?” A voice asks from the other side.   
“From sleeping fingers she slips.” The mage says urgently, and immediately the door is opened, allowing them inside.   
“We won’t be here long.” He explains to the wrinkled old woman that was on the other side of the door. “She just needed a place to hide until the Templars pass.”  
The woman nods and guides them into a small windowless room with an even smaller bed.   
“You’re safe for now.” The mage says once the door is closed behind them.   
Andrea gently lays Vival on the bed, who has managed to remain asleep through the entire ordeal. Tears flood to Andrea’s eyes at the sight and she turns to the man still standing behind her.   
“Thank you.” She sobs, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “I didn’t know what to do.” She babbles, “My husband saw her- so I had to- then the Templars came and I just-“ she sobs again, the tears soaking into the man’s shirt, but for his part, doesn’t seem to mind.   
“It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” He says, gently patting her back .   
“I just need to protect her.” Andrea chokes out.   
They stand like this for a few more minutes until Andrea pulls away, doing her best to wipe the wetness from her face.   
“Thank you ser. You must have been sent by the Maker.”   
“What happened exactly?” He asks, “All we heard was that the Bann’s wife and daughter were being hunted.”   
Andrea sighs, and sits down next to Vival, careful not to jostle her and the man pulls up a stool from the corner. “We’ll I’ve had mage since I was a child, but I’ve always managed to hide it. My husband didn’t know, so when she did- did something last night he was just so angry and… called the Templars.”  
He stares at her for a moment in contemplation, “You’re very strong, hiding a secret like that all your life.”  
Andrea gives a short laugh, then sniffs, her nose still stuffy from crying. “Well I’m hardly strong.” She says, “I’ll I’ve done is hide it. I don’t even know how to use it. I’m hardly even a real mage. To be honest I’m not even sure why you helped me”  
“The amount of magic you have isn’t what makes you a mage.” He leans forward and puts a hand on her shoulder, “Perseverance is what makes you a mage. As mages we face trials throughout our entire lives. Templars, Demons, the Chantry, they all put trials in our lives, but the ability to just stay strong, to keep going,” his hand slides down to hers and gives it a squeeze, “That’s what makes you a mage.”  
Andrea gives him a watery smile and a nod before squeezing back.   
He pauses, leaning back. “You know about the rebellion?” He asks.   
She gives him a quick nod, “Yes. That’s why I wanted to protect her. There’s just so much going on; so much violence.”  
“I think the Grand Enchanter Fiona, the leader of the rebellion, can protect you. They’ve stationed themselves at Redcliffe for now. They’re gathering themselves to fight.”  
Andrea looks to her daughter, who is just beginning to stir, “Would there be a place for her there? She can’t take care of herself or-“  
“Yes.” He says firmly. “The rebellion will help all mages


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea and Vival arrive at Redcliffe

There’s a quiet knock at the door and the man opens it.  
“The Templars are looking in the houses now. You need to go.” The woman says urgently, eyes darting from his face to Andrea's.  
Quickly collecting Vival from the bed, Andrea follows the Mage’s Collective representative out onto the street.  
“Will you come with me? Redcliffe isn’t far from here, only a couple days.” Andrea asks, repositioning Vival to rest on her hip.  
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have business in Orlais to take care of.” He explains.  
“Oh. I understand. What is your name?” She asks.  
“Elias. Elias Hagerson.”  
“Well, may the Maker light your path, Elias.”  
“May He light yours as well, Andrea.”

She doesn’t keep to the main road, but journeys alongside it as she heads to Redcliffe, and soon she’s grateful that she did. There’s skirmishes between the Templars and Mages all along it, and other people taking advantage of the chaos.  
She sees a family trying to escape from it all only to be stopped by a group of Templars. Wanting to help, but worried for Vival’s safety, she remains hidden. They slay the father of the family, remove a pouch of coins moments later, and move along as his wife cries over the body. Minutes later another group of people come along, bandits. The woman begs them for help but one of the men simply pushes her down and holds a knife to her throat she can guess what he’s doing to her while the rest of his companions loot the family’s cart. Once they leave, a child crawls out from the trees from where he was hiding to his mother’s side and they both weep. The last to walk by is a lone mage.  
“Oh Maker, please, help me kind mage!” The woman begs.  
“Damn you and your Maker.” The mage says, not even giving them a glance as she continues on down the road.  
This wasn’t just a war between the Templars and Mages, it was a war between everyone.  
Once the coast is clear, Andrea emerges from the trees, clutching Vival’s hand tightly.  
The woman and child watch with fear at their approach, but relax when they realize Andrea means them no harm.  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” She says, and pulls out a sovereign from her purse, “Please, take it. Get out of here.” She presses it into the woman’s hand.  
The woman stares numbly at the coin, because while it can help them, it can’t undo the damage that has been done. Andrea heads back into the trees, worried for Vival’s safety if they lingered on the road longer than necessary. 

“They hurt those people.” Vival says hours later as night begins to color the sky.  
“Yes.” Andrea says. It’s getting colder. They need to find a way to get warm or take shelter.  
“You gave her money.” Vival continues.  
“Yes. To help her.”  
“Why?”  
“I couldn’t help her any other way.” There wasn’t any inns nearby. And she couldn’t risk lighting a fire. Not without protection.  
Vival is silent again, no doubt trying to interpret the violence they witnessed into something that made sense. When she finally speaks again it’s a simple, “I’m cold.”  
“I know, darling.” Andrea murmurs, picking her up again, despite the growing ache in her arms.  
Eventually Andrea sees a fire in the distance, and decides the risk is worth it. If it’s a templar’s fire, she might be able to sneak away, if it’s a mages, perhaps she might convince them she means no harm.  
She is wary, trying to keep close to the ground as she begins to hear the people’s voices, and smell the smoke. When she sees a staff lying next to one of the people, she realizes she’s gotten lucky. Mages.  
Andrea makes her footsteps loud, trying her best not to startle the people when she calls out, “May I rest by your fire?”  
One of the mages immediately stands up, staff raised, and Andrea freezes.  
“Who are you?” He demands.  
“I’m just… I’m a fellow apostate, like yourself.”  
“Find another fire.” He growls.  
“Please, I’m-“  
“Find another fire!”  
“She has a child.” She hears another one of the mages say, “Let her come.”  
The mage reluctantly lowers his staff and Andrea timidly approaches.  
“Thank you.” She says softly, though no one responds.  
She sits down at the edge of the circle, keeping a wary distance between her and these strangers. Spreading her cloak on the ground beside her, she sets Vival on it, wrapping it around her.  
“Are you okay, sweetie?” She murmurs, and Vival gives a little nod, entranced by the warm fire.  
“How old is she?” An elvish woman with long brown hair asks.  
“Three.” Andrea says quietly.  
The woman gives her a warm smile, “Don’t worry. You two will be safe here for the night. Timothy tries to act all tough but he would never have hurt you. Try to sleep, okay? We’ll protect you.”  
Andrea nods. Though she still feels scared, the woman does reassure her somewhat, and eventually she manages to fall asleep, curled protectively around her child.

Andrea wakes to the sound of the others stirring. The fire is nothing but embers but luckily the early morning sun is starting to warm the dew that gathered on them during the night.  
The elvish woman that she spoke with last night silently offers them a bit of bread and Andrea wakes Vival to share a bit with her.  
“Are you guys going to Redcliffe?” Andrea asks once everyone starts standing, getting ready to leave.  
One of the men gives her a pitying look, “No, actually. We’re headed away from there. We’re headed to some villages in the area to see if we can purchase supplies.”  
“Oh.” Andrea says, “Of course.” She must make the rest of the journey alone.  
She says goodbye to the mages and continues on her journey, holding Vival’s hand as they walk. They made faster pace when Andrea simply held her, but her arms had grown stiff and sore overnight, so they both walked.  
“Do you have any other tricks, sweetie? Like the one you showed papa and I the other night?” Andrea asks after a while of silence.  
Vival thinks for a moment then stops. She draws her mother’s attention to her face, then crosses her eyes.  
“See? See mommy? My eyes go sideways.” Vival says with obvious pride.  
Andrea laughs, “Yes. Yes they do darling.” Clearly performing magic felt completely natural to her daughter, which made Andrea wonder about the power she possessed as all the magic she had ever performed had felt unnatural and exerted her. That didn’t appear to be the case with Vival however, and there was the fact that she was so young… Andrea had read that mages seldom had their powers manifest before puberty. She hoped she might find answers to her questions with other mages once she reached her destination.  
Though there are Templars and Mages fighting all along the way she manages to avoid them, at least until they’re in sight of the village.  
They are walking along the path now Andrea carrying Vival on her back, as there’s no obvious cover to hide behind, and when they head over the crest of the hill they see the two Templars lying in wait for them.  
Hoping they haven’t spotted her, Andrea tries to turn around, but she hears them call out to her.  
“Hey! Stop!” They shout.  
And she does, slowly turning back around to face them and carefully sets Vival down. They have no reason to suspect that she’s a mage yet.  
She murmurs verses from the chant of light to herself, trying to subdue the fear that’s rising within her.  
“Don’t you dare move!” One of the templars holler, stamping towards her.  
“The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next.”  
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He demands once he reaches her.  
“I… I am Helena, I live in Redcliffe.”  
“Oh? What are you doing outside of it then?”  
Andrea repeats the chant inside her head now. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
“I was checking on my mother, she has a house south of here. She’s all alone-“  
“Lies!” The Templar roars, his face so close to hers that she feels specks of spittle land on her cheek.  
Vival starts to cry.  
“Please ser, I’m just-“  
“An apostate.” His eyes move to the crying child, “and you’ve probably kidnapped her to participate in one of your evil blood magic rituals.”  
He reaches for Vival and yanks her away from Andrea’s grip, but the child wriggles and yells until the templar drops her. Andrea cries out as Vival falls with a sharp pop and rolls a few feet down the hill.  
Everything that Andrea had been holding back is released. Her voice doesn’t quaver as she speaks the chant aloud now, “As a moth sees light and goes towards the flame, She should see fire and go towards light.”  
With a gratifying shiver, magic rushes through Andrea, making her gasp as the power surges to her fingertips and she directs it at the templar with such a powerful blast that it feels like it’s her own two hands that push him. He sails through the air, hitting the ground with a clatter yards away, where he remains, unmoving.  
Vival is wailing in pain and Andrea rushes over to her. She can hear the second templar run to his friend, checking to see if he’s still alive. She has precious little time.  
“Where does it hurt Vival? Where does it hurt?” She demands.  
The little girl can’t answer but she paws at her ankle, trying to curl around it.  
“Mommy’s going to make it okay. You’ll be okay.”Andrea says, and with all the desperation she feels inside her, she summons her magic once again, and the soft healing glow that she felt years ago when she first discovered her magic begins to flow through her. In this moment, it is a blessing, not a curse.  
Moments later Vival stops crying and her mother stands her on her feet, ankle perfectly fine. The templar roars in anger off behind the two.  
“You need to run as fast as you can to the gate. Don’t look back. Mommy will be right behind you, okay? Run as fast as you can, Vival.”  
Without question Vival takes off up the hill, sprinting towards the gate of Redcliffe and Andrea turns to face the templar, letting her magic flow through her.  
He approaches her, shield and sword in hand. “May the Maker have mercy on you, for I will not.” He says, and raises the hand holding the sword towards her.  
It feels as though a part of Andrea goes numb, though it’s not her skin, something inside her. Her magic is gone; drained.  
With only one thing left to do, she turns and runs. Something hits the back of her leg behind her knee and she only manages to run a few yards before the sharp stinging pain starts and she collapses.  
In the distance she sees Vival reach the gate and it immediately raises to let her in.  
The templar is beside Andrea now and he raises his sword.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield,  
Her foundation and her sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol. I lied about Andrea reaching Redcliffe :/


End file.
